


You're Going to be Alright.

by SaltyPidge



Category: DCU
Genre: Birdflash - Freeform, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, M/M, Suicide Attempt, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyPidge/pseuds/SaltyPidge
Summary: Bruce always thought Nightwing had his life together, he never paid much attention to him outside of the mask, and maybe that was his number one mistake.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West
Comments: 3
Kudos: 208





	You're Going to be Alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, if you haven't read the tags this is a fic that deals with darker topics, and if you're triggered by mentions of suicide then please do not read this. If you are suicidal and are thinking of ending your life, please reach out to someone to talk about it because I can assure the world would be worse without you. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this fic, I do take requests and constructive criticism. Once again thank you for reading this and have a wonderful morning, afternoon, and or evening.

Bruce didn’t pay much attention to his oldest ward. It sounded cruel but it was true. Nightwing was old enough where he just seemed to be able to handle things on his own. Usually whenever Nightwing talked about his problems they were always in the past tense. His son usually just had the mindset that everything will be better if he just worked harder. And it always somehow worked for him. He was smart and cautious and handled everything incredibly well. 

Recently he hadn’t seen him around as much. Whenever he did it was because he promised a patrol with Tim or Damian, or was helping Jason with a case. They rarely talked and that was probably because their paths rarely crossed. But whenever he did see Nightwing, he seemed fine. He always had that comforting smile on his face and cracked his jokes. A fact that had once annoyed Bruce to no end, but now they were a comfort, it helped him judge how well he was doing. And by the rate he’d been saying them, quite well. 

At least that’s what he’d thought. 

Then suddenly they were working a job together. Bruce needed help with a group and usually he’d ask Tim or Damian but both were busy and this job was something that he didn’t want the younger members going towards. It was a child trafficking sex ring, of younger boys, and he didn’t want the teenager or practical child to see this. 

He’d made that mistake with Nightwing when he was younger and he never made it again. But now he was old enough and had seen his fair share of cases like this. So here they both stood looking down at the men, both having the same scowl. Without even saying a word they both went down and attacked. 

At first he thought Nightwing was just being serious, but it was beyond that, he was dead silent. They took care of the task and helped everyone, Nightwing escorting the children out and Bruce watched this switch flip where he went for stone cold and serious to this peppy Nightwing that he’d seen so often. Maybe he was just overthinking it, or maybe he was finally seeing the mask that his oldest had been putting up. 

They wrapped up everything and tied their loose ends and together they both went to the nearest rooftop. He eyed the silent hero and for the first time ever he felt hesitation. Hesitation on how to talk to him, he was usually the one that always did the talking for him, but right now he was silent, which meant that if he wanted a conversation he’d have to carry it for himself. 

And everyone knew how god awful he was at that. 

He spent the better part of fifteen minutes debating on how he should open the conversation, did he just outright ask him or did he need to try and be subtle with it all? They walked in a very tense silence before Nightwing made a very angry and defeated sigh, “Bruce I swear your silent thoughts are giving me a headache, what do you want?” 

He sounded tried, that was the first thing he noted. He also sounded tense, on guard and he tried to think of a time he’d heard his oldest’s voice like that and when his conclusion came to never he grew even more concerned. 

He cleared his throat and shifted, trying to make this more comfortable for him, “are you alright.” 

Damn it sounded more like an order than a question, maybe he should have rehearsed it more.

Nightwing turned to look at him and nodded, “yeah...why wouldn’t I be.” 

And that was a lie, a very, very bad lie. They both knew it and the look he got from Nightwing was the closest thing to a cringe that the oldest had ever done while trying to be stoic. 

“Nightwing,” he stated, in that tone of voice that usually meant open up or else. 

He sighed, “Bruce I don’t want to talk about it, let’s just drop it.” 

He looked at him with a glare, “will this affect you working?” 

Nightwing laughed, cold and hollow and it caught him off guard, “of course not B, I’ll get over it.” 

He pulled out his grappling hook and fired giving him a small mock salute before zipping away and he almost missed the small and rused, “I always do.” 

So of course he dropped it. Let the conversation go. He never saw that same Nightwing again, he was always happy and active, doing everything everyone needed him to do. It made him proud that he’d somehow managed to raise someone who excelled so much in life. Eventually that conversation escaped his mind completely, that night erased from his memory. 

Until that night. 

And Bruce would never forget it. He’d just finished up a patrol, Damian talking wildly about how his patrol with Nightwing had gone. Tim occasionally adds a detail or two. Whatever had happened during that patrol had somehow gotten the two brothers to get along for the night. Bruce couldn’t be more thankful, Nightwing was a lifesaver sometimes. 

As they all headed up stairs Bruce heard his phone rang. He ignored the call too tired to slip back into whatever businessman facade he had. He entered his room and flopped onto the bed with a small grunt as he closed his eyes. Then his phone went off again. He ignored it. And again. He ignored it, already drifting off to sleep. And then his phone rang and he lost it.   
His eyes snapped open and he sat up rather harshly, he yanked it open and pressed the number without even thinking, serious what was so important. 

“Hello,” he rasped, trying to keep the venom out of his voice. 

“Hello is this Bruce Wayne,” a woman's voice asked. 

She sounded too formal for his liking, he pinched the brig of his nose, “yes, is everything alright?”

There was a silence, before he heard his answer, “I’m calling on the behalf of Richard Grayson-Wayne, he’s currently hospitalized after an attempted suicide.” 

The words echoed coldly into his ear. His stomach dropped and his heart might have stopped for a moment. He took a deep breath, “w-what-” that was all he was able to say, the only thing he could choke out. Did they have the wrong number, no, they couldn’t.

“You’re his emergency contact sir, currently he is about to undergo sedation, unless you would like to see him, then we can forgo the process until after your visit,” She said hesitantly.

Bruce was already up and dressed in whatever he could find, jeans and a black hoodie it was, he didn’t have time to worry about his public appearance, “on my way,” he said hastily. Tim and Damian both peaked out of their rooms as they heard him fumbling down the stairs. 

He took his fastest car and raced to the hospital in Bludhaven that called him. With every passing moment he felt himself getting queasier and queasier. His mind was going a thousand miles per second as he wore his signature scowl. It took him less than an hour, half an hour to be exact. He rushed into the hospital and the lady at the reception gave him a room number. 

Hesitantly he walked into the room. His oldest ward lying in the bed, looking tired and incredibly pale. His eyes locked onto the bandaged wrists and Wally was in the room, talking to his son in a soft voice. 

When Nightwing say him his eyes widened and he swore, “fuck you’re not supposed to be here.” 

That was all he got. And Bruce got that sinking feeling once again. This was a secret that had intentionally been hidden from him and his mind went right back to that night when he’d known something was wrong and never thought to push. He fell into the chair behind him and looked at his son. 

He didn’t have time to analyze him or think about whether or not this was some elaborate lie. But one looked at him and he knew that everything he’d seen and heard played out exactly how he thought it had. 

“Why,” he said, his voice still raspy and desperate for an answer. 

He saw the ward grab Wally’s hand a little tighter and the ginger gave him a small nod, “Bruce, I think it’s best you go,” Wally said. And his heart broke a bit, Nightwing didn’t want him here. For a moment he was sad, but then it quickly turned to anger, “you won’t even give me an explanation,” he said looking at him coldly, “Dick you could have-” 

“That was the point,” he said back at him with just as much fury and coldness as Bruce, “that was the fucking point Bruce.” 

Wally squeezed Nightwing’s hand and it was as if the two of them had already come to an agreement and he was reminding his ward of it. With a small sigh Nightwing looked at him in the eye again, “can we talk about this later, please” 

His tone was desperate and Bruce gritted his teeth, “no,” he said stubbornly, standing up once again, “Dick what you did was stupid and reckless, what were you thinking!?” Yes his tone was harsh, but the more he thought about it the more angry he became. 

“Seriously Bruce,” Wally said, looking at him, being much more perceptive about the emotions going on than he was, “this isn’t a good time.” 

“It never is,” he responded, crossing his arms and giving him a scolding glare, “so I’m asking now, why. Why would you throw away everything-”

“Because it’s tiring,” Dick finally snapped, tears running down his face. The sudden surge of emotion made Bruce freeze a bit, his logical mind stuttering to a halt. 

Dick shook his head and wiped away the tears, “Bruce I’m done,” he admitted sadly, “I can’t tell you how exhausting this all is putting on a mask everyday and hoping that things turn out alright. I-I know what I did...what I tried to do was a cheap way out- Bruce I know but I just can’t-” his voice wavered as new tears rolled down his face, “I just can’t do it anymore,” he finally sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

And for the first time ever Bruce actually saw Dick. He saw how tired he actually looked, how thin he was. The reality came crashing down, and he finally made the mental connection to put everything together. He’d always just assumed that Dick had been alright, he’d treated Dick and Nightwing as the same thing. And he’d forgotten just how Dick treated the mask, how different they were.They were the same but the way they handled things were completely different. And much to his horror he’d forgotten that Dick was a human, not some machine like Red Tornado, or some alien that could keep his emotions repressed until he died. Dick wasn't like him, and he’d forgotten that. 

He rubbed a hand over his face realizing his mistake, he gritted his teeth and swallowed whatever his instinct was telling him. Batman could wait, this situation couldn’t be handled logically. Dick didn’t need a hero, he needed a dad. He moved the chair on the other side of Dick and hesitantly put his hand on his back, rubbing small circles on it. 

“It’s going to be alright,” he said, feeling the tremors of Dick’s body every time he sobbed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath opening them again, and continuing to offer the small sentences and words of assurance. 

Eventually Dick calmed down, he’d moved from sitting up to lying down, cheeks tear stained and eyes slightly closed. He held his son’s hand patiently. Slowly his son turned to look at him, he looked so weak and tired and Bruce never wanted to see him like this again. 

“Bruce I’m sorry,” he croaked. His voice is small and slightly shaky. 

He nodded and squeezed his hand, “get some rest,” he said looking at his son, his son, with all the love he could muster, “you’re going to be alright,’ he said quietly. 

Dick looked at him and nodded, maybe he didn’t believe him, that was alright, but right then and there, Bruce knew that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that Dick would be alright. 

“I love you,” he said, watching Dick drift off to sleep, and he couldn't help but squeeze his hand a little tighter, “you’re going to be alright,” he whispered. And Dick gave the smallest ghost of a smile, before his face dropped as he fell asleep.


End file.
